Open Letters:

From Me to Some of Everyone

In an open letter to the white haired gentleman in the Toyota Camry,

“What an impressive head of hair. I mean, the rest of us are supposed to keep an eye on the road….”

In an open to the very bold mystery bruise on my upper thigh,

“I don’t even know what caused you, but I don’t like the way that you make my life look a little more adventurous than it really is.”

In an open letter to the woman I’ve named Grandma Maggie who appeared to be trying to redeem a stack of expired coupons,

“Whew! That took awhile. You gave me the chance to have a whole eyeball conversation with the other black lady in line. For that, I thank you.”

In an open letter to myself,

“Listen, you do not need any taffeta. You will never need any taffeta. Don’t buy the taffeta. You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

In an open letter to the old people who aggressively cut me off in the parking lot,

“I’m not going to wish you a serious health problem…just a few days of diarrhea which leaves your tissue-like butt skin raw for a few days.”

In an open letter to her younger son,

“If you are potty trained before you are weaned, it’s going to be pretty hard not to take it personally.”

In an open letter to my younger son,

“That last diaper was a crime! Yet, I’m strangely impressed. In other words, I’ve taken a picture.”

In an open letter to my nursing son,

“Please don’t squeeze the Charmin.”

In an open letter to kombucha,

“I’m so glad that we can be together again. I’ve missed you.”

In an open letter to new baby,

“Your hiccups last night were adorable!”